Marie

[laughingman7212]

http://www.artsunlight.com/NN/N-E0004/N-E0004-117-the-thinker-portrait-of-louis-n-kenton.jpg

Marie





By: The Laughing Man






On that rainy day in the wettest hour of all May,



The stranger sat and thought of his past in distraught,



His daughter was no more; his wife had left out of this door,



This door made of oak is where the rain spoke; it had no visitors, only a single inquisitor,



No little girl to run up and be called my little pearl, only a single cup of dark Grey Earl,



Only a chair covered in the misty air and a stranger with tea on his knee missing his Marie,



Oh, how he loved she, his young sweet pea, who was now with Annabel Lee.






In the yard grew a willow tree, he had planted it when she was three,



From his eye fell a tear; it had been nearly a year,



It began with a cough, just a cold they where told, and two week later she would die in a gown of white gold.







In his pocket laid a watch, tick-tock was the sound of that little silver clock,



It keeps the time with its constant rhyme, while his mind was sublime,



His mind was now pure; it had found the cure, the antidote that would lead to that final note,



With this quote, “I die and you ask why?”



And there near that chair, the hot cup of Earl Grey sat in lay, the drinker had gone away, with Marie he would stay.

[tailor STATELY]

Haunting.

Nice touch with the graphic.

A small edit here:
"It began with a cough, just a cold they where told, and two weeks later she would die in a gown of white gold."

The remainder of perceived error I bequeath back to thee for license - in homage.

Thank you for sharing,
tailor STATELY

[hillwalker]

A couple of points -

a] the wide gaps between the lines makes it difficult to read (as we have to scan so far down the screen to reach the next line that we have forgotten what the previous line was)
b] you are relying on a perpetual rhyme so much that it has forced you to write in a very disjointed and peculiar manner

phrases like -


.....wettest hour of all May.....
.....in distraught.....
.....out of this door.....
.....dark Grey Earl.....
.....how he loved she.....
.....sat in lay.....

are all either grammatically incorrect or hopelessly clumsy, which distracts the reader from the poem you were trying to write.

My suggestion would be to throw away any rhyme you had in mind and concentrate on the 'story', keeping it as simple as possible.
Some of the images are strong enough to survive without this noose of rhyme choking all sense out of the poem anyway.

H